


In the Dark of the Night

by Eurielle



Category: Pitch Black (2000)
Genre: Action, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood, Character Death, Everlasting Darkness, F/M, Minor Injuries, Murder, Night, Original Character Death(s), Past Abuse, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past Child Abuse, Past Violence, Romance, Science Fiction, Serious Injuries, Slight horror, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9897131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eurielle/pseuds/Eurielle
Summary: Her life was one torment after another. It seemed that she could not escape it. She feared she would be stuck forever in hell, until a dark stranger comes along and flips her world on its head. She escapes, and hopes to journey to a new place to start a new life. She thought she had experienced hell and lived to tell the tale, but hell was only just beginning. Now she must trust in one who cares nothing for others in order to survive the darkness of everlasting night.





	1. Summary

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally deleted this story without even realizing it, so I am putting it back up. I still want to warn people about it. It does mention murder, attempted rape, and abuse both child and teenage. This could possibly trigger some, and I don't want anyone to get hurt because of it, so I am giving you a warning beforehand. Please, read at your own risk.

Her life was one torment after another. It seemed that she could not escape it. She feared she would be stuck forever in hell, until a dark stranger comes along and flips her world on its head. She escapes, and hopes to journey to a new place to start a new life. She thought she had experienced hell and lived to tell the tale, but hell was only just beginning. Now she must trust in one who cares nothing for others in order to survive the darkness of everlasting night.


	2. Prologue

The wind and rain blew fervently against the swinging windows. I rushed to close it before they could start yelling again. Though I doubted they were even awake with how much alcohol was in their bodies. Still, I was weary to let them wake. I was still healing from the last beating, and I would not handle another so soon very well. So, I rushed to the first floor window at the back of the house. The only light came from the candle lantern in my left hand. With my right hand, I reached out and re latched and locked the double window and drew the curtains closed. Surely the storm had not so easily opened the windows, so what had? I drew my ragged shawl closer to my body, which was only clothed in a ragged pair of grey cotton pants and thin white shirt. 

As if something had read my mind, a noise came from the cellar. Fear froze me in place, its’ icy claws clutching at my stomach and heart. Sensing danger was not uncommon to me. Danger was always around me anyhow. The sound, a shuffling of feet, came once more before dying down. I kept my eyes glued to the darkness of the cellar entrance. My mind begged me to stay put, not to go down there. But that was where I slept. I would get a good thrashing if I tried sleeping anywhere else. It felt like ages that I stood there, struggling with the two sides of my mind. Finally my feet moved forwards, carrying me down the stone steps. I was extra cautious descending the stairs because my knees wobbled beneath me. I had yet to discover what was down in my sleeping quarters, and I was already trembling like a mouse fearing a cat. Without any of the lights on in the cellar, save my lantern, it was truly dark. But even the lantern did not cut very far. It only took me a few short strides from the stairs to be in the room. My ears were met with silence, as if nothing was down there with me. “H-hell-” I gasped as a calloused hand clamped around my mouth. Something sharp was pressed into my neck. I began breathing hard, my heart pumping adrenalin. 

The body that pressed itself against my back was tall and muscular. The person was male because they towered over my small 5’6” frame. The hand that was around my mouth was huge. It could easily wrap around my jaw, mouth, and chin. It would have no problem wrapping around my neck and strangling me to death. His arms were muscular and strong. Fear had begun to heighten my senses about this man. My sense of touch, hearing, and smell were working in overdrive. Every nerve twitched under my skin where his skin contacted mine. I could hear his breathing as if were my own, no matter how loud mine was or how quiet he made his. My nose picked up his natural musky scent, as well as sweat, rain, and blood. Blood meant danger. The aura resonating off of him seemed to back it up, dangerous. I was in trouble. “Don’t scream.” His voice was dark, deep, and thunderous. I felt it through my entire being. If it had not been for the situation, I may have felt a little excited about it.

But no, I was shaking. I was shaking in his grip as I slowly nodded my head, highly aware of the blade at my throat. “Blow out the light,” he hiss in my ear. I complied quickly, lifting the lantern to my face and blowing out the candle. His hand, which had let go long enough for me to follow orders, was back over my heart shaped face again. Panic set in as I gently dropped the lantern to the stone floor. “Good girl,” he purred into my tangled pitch black hair. Tears were beginning to build in my brown eyes. He dipped his head down to the crook of my neck and right shoulder. Slowly, he lifted it back into my hair, sniffing a trail as he went. Something similar to a growl rumbled through his chest. I jumped ever so slightly at the startling sound. Then he removed the blade and pushed me further into the room. 

Because I was so light, so underfed, I fell to the floor with a sharp smack of skin against smooth stone. Without hesitation, I scrambled into the far corner of the room. I knew this room well in the dark. Now huddled into a ball in my little corner, I risked a peek up. Staring down at me through the darkness as if it were fully lit in the room were two molten silver orbs. The deadly gleam in them sent chills down my spine. I had only heard of one person who had eyes like those. Richard B. Riddick. He was so infamous for his killings and slam escapes. Even though I did not get to go outside often, I had still heard rumors and whispers about him. I could not help but bury my head into my knees, curling up tighter. When I looked up again, I saw nothing but a black mass. Snapping my head up, I squeaked and tried to scurry away. I had not even heard him move, but he had been hovering right above me. I did not like it. I did not like being trapped with nowhere to run to.

I had just been able to get my upper half past his legs when his two wide, long but thick fingered hands snatched me up by my hips. Just as easily had he had picked me up, he had shoved to to the wall. There I was, trembling like a leaf, trapped between a rock and a hard place. “Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell them that you’re here, and then never come down here. So please don’t kill me,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face now.

“Don't tell anyone I'm here, or else I kill you. Bring me food and water at least once a day, and share your sleeping quarters with me.” It was a demand I could not disobey, so I agreed. He dropped me and let me curl back into the corner as he took my cot adjacent to the corner I was in. How the fuck was I going to get out of this one?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blow struck hard and heavy on my cheek. I fell to the ground, soundless. “Learn to stay out of other people’s way, you worthless bitch,” Horace, my ‘father’, spat at me. He wasn’t much of a father. Usually he left me alone to ‘mother’, Belle. But when he was drunk, like we was now, he would go into fits of rage. I could be beat for anything, even just breathing funny. I stifled a cry as Horace pulled me up by my long hair, dragging me to the steps of the cellar. Without hesitation, he pushed me down the,. My body bounced of the stone stairs, rolling to the bottom. Not another word was said as he walked away. When I was sure he was gone, I finally allowed myself to groan. I had stopped on my stomach, which I was kind of thankful for. Last time he had thrown me down the stairs, I had hit the back of my head on the floor and suffered a concussion. 

My muscles screamed and ached as I pulled myself up to sit on my knees. I cradled my bruised cheek in my hand, fighting back tears that always threatened to spill after every incident. One of these days I would get free of their tyranny and abuse. For twenty one years I had suffered at their hands. If I tried running off without a plan, they would only find me and drag me back. I had no weapons, no money, no place to go, but one day I would get free and make them pay. 

My new ‘roommate’ had allowed me to keep a candle lit on the table beside the doorway. It gave me just enough light to see some things, and there was just little light to mess with his eyes. Riddick had not bothered me much, had not talked or touch me. But I was sure he could hear what was going on upstairs. He never acknowledged if he did though. He had been here a total of four days. No one had noticed. I did bring him food when I could. They never really noticed it was missing, but they were getting suspicious. I had gotten used to him being near me. His eyes no longer startled me. I no longer feared him. I looked up at Riddick. He was lounging on my cot, watched me get pushed down the stairs. He had heard what was going on. I wondered for a moment if he questioned what was going on, but his facial expression never faltered, his eyes never held anything that I could read.

With a sigh, I crawled over to the corner adjacent to my cot and sat with me back against the wall. I groaned and leaned back into whatever comfortable position I could find. “What caused the beating this time?” I looked up at him in surprise. Then my surprise turned to anger.

“I was born, that’s what caused the beating this time, and any other time,” I growled lowly, looking away from him and bringing my knees to my chest. “I wasn’t wanted, and they act as if I am to blame for it. They don’t care. All they do is get drunk or beat me. He’s even tried to rape me a couple of times in his drunken stupor. Fighting back only made those punishments worse, but I was not going to let him violate me.” I didn’t know why I was telling him these things. It’s not like he would care. 

“They’re getting suspicious. You’ll have to leave soon.”

“Hold them off for a few more days.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, you were hiding him? Why? Why?” Belle’s voice screeched in my ears. “You put us in danger, you brat!”

“The only person in danger of him was me, I assure you,” I spoke softly. I had woken up this morning to Riddick being gone. I don’t know how they found out, but they did. Horace laughed in my face, twisting my head around my me hair. I gritted my teeth together, determined not to let them break me. 

“I bet you let him fuck you. Let him have a little fun before he ran off, hm?” His breath was awfully close to my ear. My knees dug into the floor, and I tried to keep my breathing level as anger bubbled inside of me. This was it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I tossed my head back sharply, letting it collide with his nose. He growled and let go of me. I lunged at Belle, who stood in front of me. She went down with what force I put into my lunge. Quickly I was scrambling up, reaching for something to use as a weapon. A candelabra was all I could grasp, as Horace’s large, beefy hands pulled me back. He spun me around, and I swung the heavy metal at his head. I hit him in the temple. He fell to the ground, not dead but unconscious. 

“You bitch!” Belle screamed hysterically. “How could you do that to your own father?!” The candelabra was whipped from my hands. Her nails raked across my face, leaving deep scratches on my left cheek. I cried out in surprise and backed up. Blood dripped down my face, unhindered by anything. I tripped over Horace’s limp body. Belle came down on top of me, her hands around my throat. Adrenalin was pumping through my system, urging me to fight back as she tried to strangle me. I bucked my hips and wiggled to get the older woman off of me. Eventually I was able to, but not before she left bruises of her fingers on her skin. I sucked in much needed air, my head feeling light. But I wasted no time lunging on top of her, my anger fueling me. I was seeing red. 

“He’s not my father, and you’re not my mother,” I snarled as my fingers tangled around her neck in a bruising fashion. My grip was tight, tight enough to cut off air circulation. I wasn’t going to let her live, she didn’t deserve it. Belle clawed and grasped at my arms, my face, my neck. She couldn’t reach me. Panic filled her dark green eyes. A smile spread across my face. It was almost like I wasn't there, but a part of me who wanted this was. It frightened me, but I didn’t let up. The light was fading from her eyes. Dull is how I could describe them. She had been struggling underneath me, but now she was still. No movement came from her chest. I let go of her, and her head lolled to the side. She was dead. But he was not. 

I gasped and bolted up as I heard him groan. I had to leave. This was my chance. It was raining outside once again. Cold rain that would bite you to the bone, but I could not stay. I got my feet under me and bolted of the door. I ran full force into it, knocking it wide open. The ground beneath my bare feet was slippery as I tried to find traction to run. I slid for a few feet before actually running down the street. I did not stop as I passed by people. The rain mixed with my cuts, making them stink. Tears filled my eyes, and I let myself cry as I pressed on faster and faster, until I was sure I would not be found. The rain soaked my ragged clothes, biting at my skin and chilling my bones. My feet and toes felt numb. Eventually I stumbled into an alley. That was where I ended my run. I could not go further if I could not feel my feet enough to use them. 

I pressed my back to the rough wall, listening over the sound of rain and silence for footsteps. For a while, none came. But then, in the distance, there were soft steps hurrying my way. I panicked, pushing myself further into the alley. They were getting closer and closer. My chest heaved with the lack of breath as I tried to hide myself, but it didn’t work. I dark skinned man if funny robes rounded the alley corner, staring down it until he found me. A soft look washed over his face as he cautiously approached me. I curled further into myself as he bent down in front of me. “Poor child. Who has done this to you? Please, won’t you let me help you, I am only a friend.” He reached out his hand for me to take. At first I flinched, but I saw no malice in his eyes. After a few moments of hesitation, I took his warm hand in my frozen ones. He pulled me to my feet and close to his body, wrapping my up in his arm to keep me warm. I had not noticed how I was shivering until then. “My name Imam, what is your’s?”

I looked up at him. I really recall having a name, only being called by profanities and other harsh words. “I don’t know my name,” answered him. 

“Then come home with me. I shall feed you and keep you warm, then we will decide a name for you.”


	3. Chapter 1

https://www.polyvore.com/stranded/set?id=212435018 

The docks were bustling with people as they tried to board their flights. I watched with almost terrified eyes as they pushed past me. I was looking for the Hunter-Gratzner, but I could not find it in this damn crowd. I had also lost Imam and his three religious sons. Where could they have gone? I pushed through the crowd, ever watchful of my surroundings. It had been about six months now that I had escaped all of the abuse, but I always watched, always waited for his hand to reach out and take me by the neck. I nearly screamed as a gentle hand landed on my shoulder. I spun around, my curly black hair flying. I sighed in relief. It was only Imam, Suleiman, Hassan, and Ali. “Hannah, this way.” I let Imam take my hand and lead me to the large passenger ship. The boys ran ahead of us, climbing onto the ship with use trailing behind. Imam let go of my hand and let me go in first. This was my first time on a ship, my first time traveling. To say I was nervous was a bit of an understatement. I had been informed that our cryo-chambers were at the front of the ship. I split with my group. Imam was having to chase the boys down. I chose to look for my chamber. 

Pulling my thick leather jacket over my body further, I slowly walked the aisle to the main passenger compartment. Along the way, I could see people climbing to chambers labelled with their names. I looked for mine. My eyes were glued to the tops of the chambers, and I didn’t notice the person in front of me. “Whoa there, Sweetheart.” I looked up at the man I bumped into and backed away a few steps. This man was tall and lean. He had fair skin, short curly blond hair, and blue eyes. He spoke with what sounded like a texan drawl. He was leaned against the glass of a heavy duty cryo-chamber. I felt uncomfortable under his gaze, like he was going to eat me. The druggish smell coming from him also deterred me from him. An audible growl emitted from the cryo-chamber. I darted my eyes over onto caramel skin, a tall and muscular figure, and a shaved head. He was chained, bit between his white teeth, and a blindfold over his molten silver eyes. Riddick. I could not pull my eyes from him. Though he could not see, he was looking at me. It made my insides freeze and clench in frisson.

The man leaning against Riddick’s cryo-chamber chuckled and removed himself from the glass. “Take a good look, Sweetheart. Richard B. Riddick. Convict, murderer. It’s the last anyone will ever see out of him,” the man drawled out, never taking his eyes off of me. I looked back at him. 

“Sorry for bumping into you,” I apologized. “I really must be getting to my cryo-chamber. I travelling companions will be looking for me.” I lied. I had not seen Imam or the boys walk past, but I knew they were on the ship. 

“At least let me get your name,” the man said, stepping in front of me as I tried to move around him. “I’m William Johns, by the way.” He held out his hand for me to take. I hesitated, and I’m glad I did because the next thing I knew, I had Ali clinging to my waist. He was pulling me along, Imam and the other two walking up on us. 

“Come Hannah, let us get to our chambers,” Imam ushered. I listened to him, bypassing Johns’ outstretched hand, but I did look back to get one last glance at Riddick. He had followed my movement as if he had seen me the the entire time. Ali brought me out of my thoughts as he pulled me to my cryo-chamber. I helped Ali climb into his, which was across from me before climbing into my own. The door sealed itself, leaving to stand slightly reclined in the chamber. I don’t know how long I waited until I felt the cool of the ions releasing in the air around me, lulling me into what felt like a limbo, a place between awake and asleep. I gave into it and let my mind go blank. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I felt the ship shaking and rocking back and forth. Why was I waking up? We weren’t at New Mecca yet, were we? No, we couldn’t be. We were still in flight. I groaned and brought my hand to rub my face in the tight quarters. Then I looked around. It seemed that others were waking up to, being jostled vigorously by the ship. Without warning, the ship rocked violently. My body bounced from side to side in the metal container, then back and forth from the glass to the metal at my back. My forehead hit the glass again and everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I once again awoke with a groan. This time I wasn’t being jerked around, but it was dark. Pitch Black in fact. I could hear others in the distance, shouting for people. It was hot, the air was dry, and I was having trouble breathing. Had we landed? Then why was everything black? Why was I lying on the glass face first and not on metal on my back? I began to panic, pushing at the unbroken glass underneath me. I pushed with my hands and knees, but could not lift myself. I began to kick and struggle, the feeling of dread and helplessness settling in my chest as I began to scream for someone to flip me over. I tried to scream for them to hear me, but no one came. I hyperventilating now. I couldn’t calm down. Suddenly my cryo-chamber flipped over, revealing light and broken metal overhead. Had we wrecked? That would explain some things. But where were we? And who flipped me over?

Now that light was streaming into my chamber, I was calming down. Testing the door, I pushed it up. It lifted without force. Quickly, I scrambled from the compartment and onto what was left of the metal flooring of the ship. I looked around, searching for who had helped me, practically saved me. There was no one there. The shouting was still in the distance. With shaky arms and trembling legs, I hoisted myself off of the beaten up cryo-chamber. I stumbled, feeling dizzy as I righted myself into a standing position. I put a hand to my aching forehead and clamped my eyes shut. “Shit,” I mumbled to myself. If Imam had heard me say that I would have been scolded. Then I remembered what I was trying to do.

I stumbled through the darkened hull of the ship, or what was left of it anyways. So much stuff had been broken and torn in the crash. I had to climb my way over metal beams and empty chambers, but eventually I was able to get myself out to where the rest of the people were. The first to spot me were Ali and Hassan. They came running to me in a frantic state. Tears running down their cute little cheeks. I wrapped them both in a hug as they mumbled things in their own language. Suleiman and Imam were then next to embrace me. “By Allah, you survived child. It is a miracle, we thought we had lost you,” Imam said, holding my probably bruised face in his hands. I smiled wearily at him.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” I joked and tried to laugh. I ended up grimacing instead. “What happen-” Before I could finish my sentence, all of us heard the screaming of a man further back in the ship opposite of where I had come from. Imam, Suleiman, Hassan, and the rest of the people I did not know hurried back to where the screams originated. I tried to keep up, but it was hard to move fast with my head injury. As we hurried back, the man from before, Johns, caught up with us. He took the lead as we all came upon a man in a pilot jumper still strapped to his chair with a metal rod sticking from his chest. I covered my mouth with my hand, feeling as though I would be sick at the sight. The woman that sat beside of him looked like she was contemplating on what to do. 

The woman finally decided to try and pull the rod out of his chest, but as she wrapped her hands around the bloody metal, he began screaming again. “Don’t you- Fry don’t you touch that handle!” He screamed in hysteria and pain. Everyone jumped, and closed my eyes and turned away from the scene. I couldn’t watch. Several of the surviving passengers told the woman, Fry, to get it out of him, while the other woman in our groups told her that it was to close to his heart. He was dead man either way. 

“There’s some anestaphine in the med-lock in the back of the cabin,” Fry’s voice rang out. The man in the chair grunted and sputtered out for breath as we looked to the back of the cabin. 

One of the men, an older gentleman with fine clothing and glasses on turned to look at Fry and said, “Not anymore there’s not.” There was a pause of silence as we waited for her to speak. 

“Get out of here,” she said quietly, not looking anyone in the eye, just staring at the dying man. Her face twisted in distraught. “Everyone.” I could not take looking at the body anymore, and I was one of the first ones out of the area. Once I was far enough away from the scene, I stopped to lean against a sturdy piece of metal to catch my suddenly ragged breath and calm my nerves. Others walked by me. I watch them leave. First it was a man who looked like a prospector, followed by the third surviving woman. Then the man in fineries. Next was a kid a little older than Hassan, maybe Suleiman’s age. He glanced at me before continuing on. Johns was the last one out, other than me. He gave me a once over that sent a wave of unease through me, but did not try to speak to me. 

It was hard to breath normally on this planet. I felt short a lung, and the heat was starting to get to me. As I finally recovered, I began walking outside. I struggled to get my jacket off. Apparently I had injured my shoulder as well. I grunted as I strained my left arm back. Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. I stopped in my tracks, completely unmoving as I stared at what it was. Riddick. He was chained to a large beam, arms tied uncomfortably behind his back. The bit was still in his mouth and the blindfold was still on. There as a tear in the blindfold over his left eye. I could see his molten silver eye staring at me, piercing my skin. For a moment I wondered if he remembered me. It was possible, but he probably didn’t. 

Still, the urge to walk up to him was strong. I let the impulse take over, removing my jacket completely along the way. His eye followed my every move as I cautiously approached him. Nervousness set into my stomach as I stopped in front of him and stopped down to his level. I was tempted to reach up and untie the blindfold, but I knew that would be foolish. I may also get in trouble for it. It seemed he had already gotten loose once, and he would get loose again. I just hoped he wouldn’t kill me this time. A low, animalistic growl rumbled through him as he tried to lean closer to me. I let out a small gasp, but stayed frozen in my place. Why was I so afraid of him now? “Do you remember me?” I asked him quietly. He seemed to contemplate my question before nodding slowly. I let out a breath I had not known I was holding I opened my mouth to say something more, but heard my name being called by one of the younger boys. Riddick lifted his head to look in the same direction as me. “I have to go,” I said, giving hm a glance before standing up and walking outside.


End file.
